AZA'ZEL
by Gray Feather
Summary: Decades later, the demon once known as Sebastian still roamed the cities, forever wearing a smiling mask as endless contractors slaughter at his feet, and always carrying with him a small crystal flask, containing the silvery soul of one Ciel Phantomhive.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:**_ If_ I own Kuroshitsuji, there would be _no_ introduction of a sadistic blond who turns hysteric at the sight of his own blood and a copycat butler who's emotional impaired and needs improvement in the hair and eyesight department.

**AZA'ZEL**

_-Hebrew word, meaning "entire removal" and "scapegoat."_

**Prologue - Consumption**

There are two stages in the art of humane consuming for a demon.

First, you kill the body.

Killing is easy,

A knife, a gun, forks and knifes

a slice through throat, a flick of the finger at the skull, pull out the lungs, crush the heart,

a whisper in the ear, a caress on the cheek, a kiss on the lips

Killing is the enjoyment, and never painful

"_Will it hurt?"_

Then, you extract the soul

Technically, you only need a contact, anywhere, however small

Demons tend to use the description 'suck' or 'eat' in match with their need to consume-"the hunger" while in truth no specific action is needed

See, it's easy as well.

A brutal rip, a slash of claws, a sweet coax of the tongue

Extraction is the procedure

For those demons of the highest ranks, this procedure is but naught, for after endless millenniums of existence, they always slip out the soul beautifully clean from its container, leaving the tasteless flesh whole and well.

"_A little."_

A well done extraction is almost unfelt.

Then, you proceed to the feast

Some swallows it whole, bloody and messy along with the container. Some drinks it fast, and the battered flesh bursts to pieces. Some, however, takes it slow, stores it in fine crystallized glass, and savors its taste from time to time in his timeless lifespan.

When the last speck of soul is drained from the body, the body will dissipate into dust, shadow and wisps of smoke.

And Ciel Phantomhive's last thought before completely submerging in the darkness was

"_Damn that lying demon, it hadn't hurt at all."_

_**To be continued…**_


	2. Not a Mistake

**Disclaimer:**_ If_ I own Kuroshitsuji, Sebastian would have at least showed some kind of expression when he was told to have became the demon Ceil's eternal butler at the end of season II.

**AZA'ZEL**

_-Hebrew word, meaning "entire removal" and "scapegoat."_

**Chapter One – Not a Mistake**

Sebastian was fairly young by demon standards when he encountered Ciel. And let's just say, all the worst mistakes are most likely to be made in the teenage years, human and demon alike, and the worst? You cannot even bring yourself to admit to anyone it was a mistake.

Sebastian was unique in his own right, his talents great for one of his "age", and sadly, his mistakes tend to share the same characteristic

Years later, he thought of that famous quote, "what was once lost, will be lost forever."

"Not necessarily," he smirked, he was not just any of those filthy Lucifer's recruit from the kicked-outs of heaven's gate, he was a demon by choice and harbored the power from his ex-occupation.

He would see his young master again.

It was not a human crafted flask, to carry such a trinket would be degrading, for both him and the soul within. Instead, he chose a natural piece of crystal, hollowed out by liquid razors after thousands of years, with a token of remembrance serving both as the stopper and the label.

It was a small crystal bottle barely larger than the sized of his human palm, of a deep midnight blue hue with a familiar sapphire ring encased in its red crystal stopper.

He was probably the first ever to bottle a soul.

For the hundred or so years after the end, he feasted on souls almost uncontrollably. Day in, day out, he slaughtered and fed and still felt so incredibly empty. He swore to himself that he would not make another contract again… such things take so much out of a demon…or is it just him?

Someday, he'd just find a seclude spot in hell's forest, and caress he flask he carries and lose himself in its scent.

He did not drink. When the flask drains empty, he'd have to answer the next question: "now what?" He did not know the answer. And that is simply unacceptable.

He idly strode in and out the hell-fire, inspecting various scenes of fallen human's eternal suffering. And he thinks, if he had not appeared before him on that fateful day, would he be here now? Then he thought perhaps that's not a bad proposition at all, he fingers the hidden jewel of blue crystal, and allowed himself a moment to entertain such thoughts.

When another summons resonated across hell like those of a fire-alarm in modern human world, he did not look up. It was one of the many, soon, some demons bored out their mind would fly to answer it. It has nothing to do with him, after all, he had long sworn not to….

Teenage promises were made to be broken.

As if in a deija vu, he heard the sneakers raising up left and right,_ "Ha, a child!" "How weak," "Barely a mouthful!"_ And he raises his head so fast that a whirl of feathers fell, and for a tiny fraction of a second, he stared at the dark haired boy in bewilderment, and calls out…

Only to see he was already died. A child almost never survives the ceremony.

He began to make contracts again. Working did seem to improve the quality of one's meal, though not by much.

His peers (not equals, never equals!) smirks with spite when he passed,_ "What's up with you and kids?"_

Then he suddenly realizes all his contractors after _him _had been 13 or younger. And so far, none survived to 14 years old.

He's tired of seeing not what he expected. Every word, every order, ever gesture, ever command…he's tired of seeing not what he wanted to see.

Wait, what did he want to see?

He had long ago ceased to carry the precious crystal with him. He could not enter a contract holding something to lose. When he returned after the meager meal of a typical orphan, he found the ground which he buried the treasure under thriving with a flood of sterling silver roses which definitely was a first in the realms of hell.

He wished to see him again, flesh and blood, not just silvery mist confined within the crystal palace, with a sapphire ring as its seal.

So he would.

The demon grudgingly admitted over time, that he might have made a rather inconvenient decision, at one time, but not a mistake,_ never_ a mistake.

_**To be continued…**_


End file.
